


Templar's Confessional

by MedievalMeme



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood Magic, Claustrophobia, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mild Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Survivor Guilt, Violence, i guess, in the context of blood mages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedievalMeme/pseuds/MedievalMeme
Summary: This is an AU fic where Solona Amell never became the warden. After almost 12 years, an old flame of Cullen's gets recruited to the Inquisition; the apostate he helped escape from the circle before it fell to blood magic. Seeing each other brings back a flood of memories for both of them, but there may be more to their past relationship than Cullen realizes.





	Templar's Confessional

A cold sweat washed over me.

 

I tried in vain to steady my shaking hands, clinging to my sword and shield so tightly my knuckles turned white. The explosion shook the ground beneath us with great force and my eyes opened wide with fear, my gaze locked onto the blinding light above me.The red light reflected off of his armor, as if we stood under a blood filled sky. The champion grabs the apostate by the collar, shakes him, begging him for an explanation.  


"What have you done, Anders?!" 

The city was thrown into utter chaos. I fought alongside my brothers and sisters, watched helplessly as Templars and mages slaughtered each other in the streets. Screams rang in my ears and the familiarity of it all sickened me. I had seen this before; abominations and bloodshed at the hands of a power-hungry mage. It was my duty as a Templar to protect the innocent from the dangers of magic. In that moment my task was clear; kill every mage and demon I could get my hands on. It was brutal, but such is the way of war. The mage had made it so. 

 

Maybe it was the trauma I had endured so many years ago, my broken mind desperately trying to cope as the world fell to pieces around me. Memories I had long forgotten were alive within me once more. Her name...her voice...a beautiful song that made my eyes sting when I heard it. It all echoed throughout my mind relentlessly, mingling with the pain and fear. Dark thoughts followed, as they always did, and latched onto the memory of her, spreading throughout me like the blight. 

 

Alone. 

 

Tortured. 

  
Forgotten. 

 

Tainted. 

 

That beautiful smile flashed for a moment behind my eyelids and it almost brought me to my knees, as she always would. 

  
  
  


I knew she was probably dead. I had come to terms with that long ago. Even if I had reason to think she was still alive, there was no point in trying to find her. I was a Templar, she was an apostate, and that was the end of it. It was best if we stayed far away from each other. Besides, I would have never wanted her to see what I had become; a broken man, bitter and lonely. 

 

I hadn’t met many mages before I arrived at Kinloch Hold. From what I learned in my studies, they were supposed to be dangerous creatures...humans cursed with a power so great it often drove them mad. She was not...what I expected. She was quiet, playful...she always spent time with the children to try to distract them from missing their families. When she spoke to me I didn’t fear her, in fact I would listen to her talk for hours and never tire of it. Whenever I was with her I felt so comfortable. Something about her was nostalgic, reminded me of home. I pined over her for two years and, Maker, she  _ loved _ it. She told me I was “cute” when I blushed, smiled sweetly while I stumbled over my words like a fool. She needed me; a young templar with a relentless infatuation, an unquenchable thirst for self torment. Someone who was willing to show her that she wasn’t going to be alone anymore. 

 

I was a fool to think I could resist her. Hushed whispers in the store room, silently praying that no one noticed we were gone and came looking. I can still feel the cool touch of her fingertips, a gentle hand reaching up to caress my cheek that burned hot with shame. I could not find the strength within me to deny her any longer. “Cullen…” she whispers, breath hot against my skin, bare before her without the protection of my armor. This was bliss, I thought, and I cursed my vows from keeping me from this salvation. My beautiful mage, my heart, oh Maker’s breath I love you so much...I had to bury my head in the crook of her neck to hold back my confession. Nails digging into my shoulder, she breathes my name, a shaky plea on her lips as she completely unravels around me. Any resolve I had left is long gone, and my voice cracks as I curse the Maker’s name, losing myself inside of her. And then it was over. 

  
Less than a week later Kinloch Hold fell.. Blood magic, demons, abominations- my worst nightmare was coming to life around me. I couldn’t help but think it was our fault; punishment from the Maker for our sins. I didn’t care if the demons tore me limb from limb, but I had to make sure she was safe. I  _ had _ to. 

I gripped the vial in my hand; her phylactery, her one chance at freedom. We ran straight to the front door, the sounds of screaming and death faded behind us until all I could hear was her shaking breaths. The doors were momentarily unguarded in the midst of all this chaos. I didn’t even care if anyone saw us together. We were all going to die anyway. I gave her the vial, the gold I had stolen from the chantry (Maker forgive me), and I pull her into a tight embrace. This was the right thing to do. I was protecting her, it was my  _ duty _ to protect her. If I had let her stay trapped in there with me it would have been no different than sacrificing her myself. 

 

I kissed her and she told me she loved me...that she would never forget me. Panicked and quick, no time for a proper goodbye, no closure, no…anything.

 

That was the last time I ever saw her. 

 

* * *

 

12 Years Later

  
  


“Commander, I’ve got the reports for you.”

 

I glance up from my desk. Maker, it was the nervous one again. She always ran in like she was being chased by something, completely out of breath and dropping my paperwork everywhere.  


 

“Which ones are these?” I ask, gesturing impatiently for her to place the papers on the desk. 

 

“New recruits, supply shipments, and…” She picks up a piece of paper and furrows her brow. “Don’t know why, but I think sister Leliana added in one of the new agent reports. A healer? This must be a mistake, I’ll take it back right-”

 

“Give it here.” I reach for the paper, standing up from my desk. “No, this is addressed to me.” 

 

She lingers in front of my desk for a moment, apparently needing a command to know when to leave a room.  

 

“...Carry on.”

 

She leaves, finally, and I turn my attention to the mysterious report, eyeing Leliana’s unmistakable penmanship in the corner. 

 

‘This may interest you, commander. -L’

 

I could feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach turned. Solana, a mage healer recruited in Redcliffe Village.  _ Solana _ . It couldn’t be her, could it?  It had to be a coincidence. Solana had to have been a popular name, I thought, and there were hundreds of mages in Redcliffe now. It couldn’t be her. It just wasn’t possible. I  _ needed _ it to not be possible.

 

I stare down at the report for who knows how long, restraining myself from marching right up to sister Leliana and causing a scene in front of...well, her birds, I guess. My...personal affairs, past nor present, were none of her business. This was an invasion of privacy, outrageous...but, how had she remembered? I had nearly forgotten that Leliana was with the Hero of Ferelden when she freed the Circle. She had unfortunately heard my mad ramblings about...her, about how the demons tormented me for days with her image until I nearly broke. And after all these years, she remembered. 

 

I made a quick mental note to politely ask her to  _ mind her own business _ , and focused on what was important; Solana was alive. And she was here. I had nearly forgotten she was actually a real person. Maker only knows how often I prayed for her safety, even when my own was in jeopardy. To learn that my prayers had been answered...words cannot adequately describe how that felt. For once, something I did turned out right. Even if she never wanted to speak to me again, or if, Maker willing, she had forgotten I existed completely, I was content.

 

I look up and take a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm my nerves. My thoughts were troubling. I had not seen this woman in 12 years. A  _ lot _ had happened in those 12 years. There was so much history there, she was too close to those memories. I feared an encounter with her wouldn’t be what I had imagined...I feared what seeing her face again would do to me. 

 

Was I really about to let fear cripple me like this? My mind felt so clouded...I had gotten used to the clearness that had come with being off of the lyrium. Of course once I start feeling normal again  _ she  _ shows up. 

 

I huff and push away from my desk, suddenly needing fresh air. I had to get my thoughts straight if I was going to approach this properly. I often had trouble thinking when I was indoors. The words just bounced off the walls and spiraled endlessly. 

 

I stepped out onto the battlements and immediately heard a loud noise from the courtyard below; distant screaming, uncomfortably familiar due to the close proximity of my office to the surgical tents. I peer over the edge of the wall to get a better view of the gruesome scene. One of my soldiers; a brave man, strong and skilled with a sword, reduced to a nothing but a screaming mess. His leg was bloody and mangled, from what I could see from the battlements. 

 

Unthinking, I made my way down the stone steps into the courtyard. The man had a family...a wife, soon to give birth to his second child. He spoke of them endlessly, almost to the point where I felt as if I’d met them. I had to make sure I wasn’t going to be writing her a letter of condolence any time soon. 

 

I had seen my fair share of injuries, between Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall, but this was...bad. I could smell the blood in the air even from a few feet away, the nauseating splintering sound as the bone saw cut through. It was unpleasant to watch, to say the least, but the amputation would likely save his life.

 

My thoughts are interrupted by a glimpse of fiery auburn hair, bright orange in the light of the setting sun. My stomach turns as my gaze locks onto her face; so familiar yet changed by time, older but just as beautiful as the first time I had seen her. I was frozen in place, only able to watch as she clamped her hand down onto his leg, which was now reduced to a bloody stump. A dull blue light appeared from her palm, her eyes narrowed in focus as she cast her spell. 

 

The screaming stops, welcoming in a deafening silence and the ringing of my ears. He was out cold, likely succumbing to the pain. As they began to wrap the wound I finally found my feet, and turned to make my way back up the stairs before I was spotted. 

 

“Cullen?” 

 

I freeze, squeezing my eyes shut. That voice...Maker.

 

I slowly turn towards her; she is still kneeling on the ground, hands bloodied almost up to her elbows. She makes a feeble attempt to wipe off the blood with a nearby rag and stands, remaining a cautious distance...mouth slightly agape as she eyed me, as if she was trying to make sure I was really standing there. I did nothing but stare back, unable to pull my gaze away from her. 

 

She takes a few steps towards me and my mind  _ screams  _ for me to run. I look upon her face, gazing up at me, green eyes pulling me in and bringing me back to that accursed tower. The screams, the demons, the blood, her hand on my chest as she kisses me- 

 

I avert my eyes and bite my tongue to bring myself back to the present.

 

“I heard the commander’s name was Cullen but...I never thought…” 

 

“Will he be alright?” I croak, glancing back up at her. 

 

She turns and looks at the soldier on the ground, now being tended to by one of the nurses. “I think so.” she says quietly, wringing her hands. “He’s young, he will heal well, as long as the wound doesn't fester. My magic will help with that.” 

 

I nod and straighten my back, inhaling sharply. “I’m sure you have much to do, I shouldn’t keep you.” 

 

I begin to walk away but she reaches out, lightly touching the armor plate on my upper arm. 

 

“Wait, Cull- um, Commander.” 

 

I turn to her, trying in vain to hide my discomfort. It was obvious to her, I’m sure. 

 

“If you have a moment-”

 

“I don’t.” I blurted, cutting her off. “I apologize, I’m- I don’t. Have a moment, that is.” 

 

She raised an eyebrow, likely baffled at how I was still, after all this time, a bumbling idiot.

 

“I...will be free later this evening, if you wish to speak with me.” I finally manage to say. She nods politely in response, yet lingers.

 

"I didn’t expect the Commander of the Inquisition to be...you. After siding with the mage rebellion, I didn’t even think there’d be any Templars here.”

 

“I am no longer a Templar.” I reply flatly, clearing my throat. "I've left the order."  


 

“I didn’t think the order was that easy to leave.”

 

“It isn’t.” 


End file.
